


Suffering On Ice

by orphan_account



Series: Fading On Ice [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Heavy Angst, Panic Attacks, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9712904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki, two-time winner of the Skating World championships, three time-winner of the Grand Prix and Japanese Nationals, suffers from extreme anxiety.Most days he struggles to function.Every day he struggles to get out of bed every day.One day, it all becomes too much.Small spinoff story attached to the events that happened in Chapter 43 of What Fades On The Ice





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING!!!  
> COULD BE UPSETTING!!!  
> PLEASE LOOK AT TAGS BEFORE READING!!!

Pressure was not something Yuuri was good at handling.

It doesn’t matter how many medals he won, pressure always got to him.

The amount of times Celestino found him throwing up bile or having panic attacks before and after competitions had increased dramatically over the years.

The thing was that as soon as he stepped out onto the ice, everything faded. The ice absorbed everything and he lost himself in his music or his routine.

People never saw him off the ice, even when he was walking right in front of them. He was and would always be the champion. No matter how pale he was, how much his body trembled, how outright sick he looked, he was their champion.

Like all things at the top, things must fall.

***

Yuuri should have been at the rink, had promised to help Phichit with his quadruple toe loop but he just couldn’t find the motivation to go.

Celestino had been trying to get him to take a day off since they had returned from the Grand Prix Finals almost a month ago, but the thought of taking a day had been daunting. He feared that if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to get back up. But today, today he didn’t care. He couldn’t go today.

He didn’t want to go to the rink that was surrounded by reporters trying to ask him about how the preparations for the World Championships was going.

He didn’t want to fake a smile and tell everyone that his preparation was going well.

He didn’t want to get onto the ice and be stared at in awe for failing a routine over and over because he couldn’t get his head in the right headspace.

He didn’t want to help Phichit fail the quadruple toe loop because his best friend didn’t have the muscles in his legs built up enough to propel himself into the air high enough.

He just wanted everything to stop.

He wanted his anxiety to go away. He was tired at the panic that ran through him the moment he left the comfort of his bed. He was tired of the emptiness, of the doubt that was always there.

He felt a sob leave his lips as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, staring at the pathetic excuse of a human that looked back at him.

It felt like days since he been able to eat something without throwing it up.

It felt like weeks since he been able to sleep through the night without waking up from nightmares of him crashing and burning.

It felt like months since he felt good.

Another sob left his lips as he ripped his glasses off his face and threw them away.

He hated his glasses that reminded him every moment of every day just how broken his body was.

He couldn’t even see in a straight line. Couldn’t control his own nervousness. Couldn’t control his own emotions.

“Why?” A broken voice asked, echoing in the bathroom. It took a moment before realising that it had been his voice, the realisation resulted in another sob leaving him. He couldn’t even recognise his own voice anymore.

His sob suddenly turned into a scream as he felt a sudden burst of rage take over him.

He watched as the mirror cracked in his burst of rage, having thrown a punch hard enough to crack the rather large mirror.

“No more. I don’t want to anymore.” He sobbed as he stumbled backwards, away from the mirror until his back hit the shower door. He slid down the clear surface, completely unaffected by the blood that dripped from the hand he had thrown into the mirror.

“Make it stop.” He sobbed, curling in on himself. Fingers digging into the arm of his forearm as sobs shook his body.

“I can’t anymore.” He cried before a thought came to him. He slowly glanced towards the two bottles of medicine sitting on the bathroom sink.

His anxiety medication and the sleeping tablets Celestino had insisted he started taking before competitions at the very least.

He hated both of those bottles. Hated Celestino and Phichit for making him take them.

He barely registered the next sob that left him as he got to his feet and stumbled the few steps towards the bottles and grabbed both of them before stumbling his way into the small bath in the corner of the room, right beside the shower. He tucked himself into the corner as he tried to open the medication bottles with trembling hands as tears rolled down his cheeks and sobs wracked his chest.

“Make it stop.” He sobbed as he finally got the first bottle open, accidental spilling some of the tablets on him as he shook the bottle into his hand. He lifted his head up and shoved as many pills into his mouth as he could.

He choked, but kept a hand over his mouth as he forced himself to swallow the tablets in his mouth. He ignored the disgusting aftertaste as he struggled with the second bottle for only moment before tipping the tablets right into his mouth this time.

“Make it all go away.” He mumbled as he curled in on himself, sobbing slowly going quiet as everything faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

“Yuuri~” Phichit shouted as he entered their apartment, “I’m home!”.

The Japanese skater hadn’t turned up at the rink for their normal training session. Coach Celestino had told him to ignore it but he had this nagging feeling in the back of his head that he couldn’t quite shake.

Yuuri hadn’t been himself the last couple of days. Been harder to wake up and drag out of bed, and it was almost like the moment he left the bed, he tensed up and put on a fake smile.

He paused as he put his bag down, expecting to hear some sort of greeting. It had become a running joke between them, for Yuuri welcome him home in a traditional Japanese manner.

So, when he didn’t receive a welcome home, warning bells started to go off in his head.

Yuuri’s keys still sat on the kitchen bench, indicating that the older skater hadn’t left the apartment. He headed straight for the Japanese man’s room, finding it empty.

He frowned as he stared at the empty, unmade bed before wondering back out into the main room. He had thought for a second that maybe Yuuri had gone into his room for whatever reason when he saw light shining under their joint bathroom door.

He paused at the door and knocked on it gently. “Yuuri?” He questioned, a feeling of panic starting to settle in when he got no response. He couldn’t hear any running water, meaning that it wasn’t like Yuuri was showering and couldn’t hear him.

He slowly grasped the handle and turned it, swallowing when the door opened.

“Yuuri?” He called out while slowly pushing the door open to stick his head in. He had expected to see the older skater lying in the bath, fast asleep.

Instead, he was meet with a figure curled up in one corner of the bath with blood staining the ceramic around them.

“YUURI!” He shouted, rushing into the room and hurrying towards his best friend. He grabbed Yuuri’s face in his hands and tilted it up, getting no response. He couldn’t help the swear that left him when he noticed the tablets that fell off the Japanese male as he was being moved and the empty medication bottles lying beside the unconscious male.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled ‘9-1-1’, fighting back tears as he leant in close to make sure his best friend was breathing.

His call was answered and he explained the current situation as calmly as he could with shaking hands and a trembling voice.

***

Yuuri head felt heavy, throat dry and body refused to move.

He mumbled a groan as he fought with the heaviness to slowly open his eyes.

Once he finally got them open, he slowly blinked as he stared at the unfamiliar roof.

With another small groan, he slowly tilted his head to the side and blinked once, slowly in confusion at the sight he saw.

Phichit was curled up in what he assumed was a plastic chair with a large jacket thrown over his shoulder.

“He’s been here since they brought you in.” He heard a voice mumbled softly from the other side of them. He slowly turned his head in the opposite direction, coming face-to-face with Celestino.

He let out a small whine before slowly letting his eyes slide shut. He lay there for a moment, trying to get his body to move normally.

He opened his eyes again, finally noting that Celestino was missing his jacket, which explained the one Phichit had thrown over him. He opened his mouth to ask a question but only a small whine of pain escaped through dry lips.

“You are in the hospital.” He frowned before weakly licking his lips. The older male suddenly shot to his feet and moved to grab something behind him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, having gotten dizzy at Celestino sudden moment. He opened his eyes a few moments later to see something being held to his face. He stared at the object for a moment before realising that it was a straw and slowly opening his mouth and grabbing the straw between dry lips. He weakly sucked on the straw, humming softly in relief as he dry mouth was filled with water. He took a few deep sips before releasing the straw. He swallowed the water before slowly licking his lips.

“Why?” He was finally able to croak out, earning a soft sigh in relief.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He frowned and stared at his coach for a long moment.

“Bathroom.” He croaked before it dawned on him.

“You attempted suicide.” He slowly relaxed into the pillows behind his head, staring blankly in front of him for a moment.

“Yuuri, look at me.” He blinked and slowly turned his head to look at the older man, “The doctors said you have depression.”

He stared at his coach before attempting sit upright, he felt a gasp leave him when he realised that he couldn’t move his arms.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, it’s okay. Everything is okay.” A soft voice said that didn’t belong to Celestino. He felt two arms wrap around him and gently lie him back down, letting him finally catch a glimpse of the person softly talking to him.

“P-Phi.” Was all his voice could muster, earning him a gentle smile in response.

“I’m right here, Yuuri.” He felt tears pickle at the corner of his eyes as he stared at his best friend.

“B-Bro-broken.” He mumbled before a sob wracked his weak body.

“No, no,” Phichit cooed while hugging him closely. He couldn’t stop the sobs that left him as he lay there in a hospital bed, wrapped up in his best friends’ arms. “You aren’t broken, Yuu. Far from broken.”

He was so weak; he had given into everyone judgement. Had disappointed his best friend and coach.

He had proven how broken he was.

“You are perfect, Yuuri.” Phichit cooed.

How he wished that was true.

***

“Are you sure?” Celestino questioned as Phichit hold tightly onto his hand.

“Yes.” He said with a nod of his head, “I have too.” He said, turning his head to glance out over the ice.

He shouldn’t be there. All his doctors had recommended against it.

His mind was too fragile to be put under the pressure that came with competition. Especially in the World Championships.

But he was the reigning champion. If he didn’t come, didn’t perform, there would be questions.

Questions that could lead to the truth.

He would rather compete and risk falling apart than let the world know that he had tried to take his life.

“Yuuri,” He glanced towards Phichit who was holding onto his arm tightly, “You are perfect.” He flushed in embarrassment at his best friends’ statement.

Since the day he woke up in the hospital, the Thai male had made it his job to remind him every day that he wasn’t broken.

“Phichit,” He said, biting back a smile at the way his friend perked up, “I need my hand to perform.” He pointed out, earning a chuckle from Celestino as the tanned skater let go of his hand with a gasp. He giggled softly before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I can do this.” He mumbled while opening his eyes and turning to look at both Celestino and Phichit, who were staring at him with encouraging smiles.

“You got this.” Phichit agreed with a bright smile.


End file.
